


Introduction to Reorganization

by Lavavulture



Series: One, Two, Three [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:23:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5048458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavavulture/pseuds/Lavavulture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iron Bull leaves to go on fetch quests with the Inquisitor and Dorian finds something fun to do in his absence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Introduction to Reorganization

**Author's Note:**

> I've been unleashed, like a terrible monster, straight into OT3 hell.

“Are you going to miss me, _kadan_?” Iron Bull asked in a low rumble, pressing into Dorian against the wall behind the tavern.

“Certainly not,” Dorian said, stretching his neck so that Iron Bull could nip a bit at the skin there. “I might actually get some work done with you off in the desert with the Inquisitor. I hope you stay away for months.”

“Yeah, you’re going to miss me.” Iron Bull chuckled and licked at the shell of his ear once before pulling away. He paused a moment and glanced up the wall behind them. “Keep an eye on him for me, Kid. Don’t let Dorian do any weird Altus shit while I’m gone.”

Dorian glanced up and was only a little surprised to see Cole sitting up high on the wall, kicking his legs against the stone and openly staring at them. After their night together Iron Bull had insisted that Cole take some time to figure out if he wanted to continue their lessons. He’d come back only a couple of days later but by then Cadash had gotten it into her head that Iron Bull needed to help her scour the Hissing Wastes for serpentstone. 

“I’ll make sure that Dorian rests when he needs it,” Cole said solemnly, as though that wasn’t the biggest ironic statement the insomniac spirit could make. He might as well have said that he would make sure that Dorian ate properly and spoke in clear, precise sentences.

“I haven’t needed a nanny since I was a child and you don’t look like her,” Dorian said sharply, smoothing down his robe.

Cole rubbed his ears thoughtfully and opened his mouth. Dorian waved off whatever wonderful insight that would have been and tried to push Iron Bull out of the darkened corner so he could get around him. It was like trying to push over a statue.

“You two behave yourself,” Iron Bull said and then winked once, slowly and dramatically.

“You’re really the worst person I’ve ever met.” Dorian glared as Iron Bull left and then looked up at Cole, contemplative. He crooked his finger at him. “Come make yourself useful if you’re going to be watching me. I need some help with my books.” 

 

“Now, I don’t think you’re listening to me, Cole. That’s rude when I’m taking time out of my day to teach you about ancient elven history.” Dorian turned another page of the enormous book with one hand. The other was busy in Cole’s lap, teasing and pressing like he’d been doing since the second chapter.

Cole breathed out against his neck hard but stayed as quiet as a mouse, just like Dorian had told him he must. The library was empty this time of the night, except for possibly Solas far below, secretly painting or whatever he did when people weren’t looking. Dorian was speaking loudly in case Solas was down there. Even he knew that this book was garbage so he couldn’t imagine how much it would annoy Solas. He imagined it would bother him almost as much as the idea of Dorian pleasuring Cole in his alcove as he taught him the terrible history.

“Dorian,” Cole whispered plaintively, pressing his face to Dorian’s hair. 

“I’m almost finished,” Dorian said sternly. “I only have this chapter about Dalish courtship rites left. Fascinating stuff. Of course after that I have this author’s newest volume about the Fade. Riveting.”

Cole whimpered softly and Dorian smirked. He was a magnificent person, truly.

 

“Your hair smells nice,” Cole said, after Dorian had finally finished his books and subsequently a grateful Cole. The lanky spirit had managed to wedge himself into the chair with Dorian and was currently attempting to wrap his limbs around him as tightly as an octopus. Cole buried his nose in Dorian’s short hair. Dorian smiled, writing on a piece of parchment. 

“Well, it’s clean, which is a good start for that sort of thing,” Dorian said lightly and dipped his quill into the inkwell. Cole settled in more against him.

“My hair doesn’t smell like that,” Cole said, lifting up a strand of his hair and sniffed it curiously.

“Well, it’s not clean. And you probably don’t use fine imported bath oils. That helps.”

“I usually just bathe when Cadash wants to measure me for new armor. She says that it saves time when we do both together.”

“I’m not surprised. Our Inquisitor is an extraordinary woman but her affection for Warden Rainier shows that she’s not precisely a devotee of cleanliness.” Dorian reached up past Cole, slightly awkwardly since he seemed disinclined to move an inch, and grabbed a nearby book. Cole was clearly so touch-starved that Dorian wouldn’t even let the idea of asking him for space to enter his mind.

Cole contemplated that for a moment. “The Iron Bull doesn’t use your soap and he smells nice.”

“Bull smells like Bull, which is not precisely nice but it suits him.” Dorian felt a little pang thinking about Iron Bull and his empty bed. It was ridiculous how used to him he’d become.

“I can stay in your bed so that you won’t feel lonely,” Cole said softly.

Dorian wrapped an arm around Cole’s back, rubbing along his spine. “That would be lovely. But you’ve given me an even lovelier idea.”

 

Josephine was able to arrange the trip immediately, of course, and she didn’t even raise an eyebrow when Dorian said that Cole was going to be coming with him to Val Royeaux. She was really the most extraordinary ambassador that Dorian had ever met. If she’d been in the Imperium, the number of scandals that were successfully hidden under the rug would have quadrupled.

The journey to the city was quiet and calm. Cole asked him dozens of questions—some baffling and some so outstandingly perceptive that Dorian was aroused just on principle—but he was also content to just look at the countryside for hours at a time, listening to whatever hurts were around him. Often he would disappear during rests and return later with twigs in his hair to tell Dorian about a hunter or a traveling bard and the favor he’d done for them. At night he would curl up against him until Dorian would fall asleep, at which point he assumed that Cole went out and helped all the woodland creatures near camp. It was so idyllic that it almost made Dorian embarrassed to enjoy it so much.

Dorian nearly wanted to stay out in the wild a little longer, which was first time he’d ever felt like that, but soon enough they arrived in Val Royeaux. The bustling city was beautiful and almost felt like home, despite the outlandish Orlesian frivolity. Cole should have looked out of place among all the costumes and masks but he seemed as comfortable as he ever did, which may have just shown how uncomfortable he often was at Skyhold.

“Cadash took me there once,” Cole said, face bright as he pointed to a lovely outdoor café. “I told her about how being human made me hurt and we laughed. I didn’t drink any of the wine.”

“That’s not such a crime. They have terrible wine there,” Dorian said. He led Cole up the higher parts of the city and to a secluded corner where a simple building was. It was nominally just an unusual inn but Dorian had a certain degree of fondness for the place. The nights he’d spent there had been the first since he’d left home that had made him feel like himself again.

The innkeeper greeted him in the standard Orlesian fashion and didn’t hesitate a moment to do the same to Cole once Dorian introduced him. Cole rubbed his pink cheek all the way up the stairs and down the hallways to their room.

The room was large and comfortable, in a sedated Orlesian style that didn’t overwhelm. It was simply beautiful and serene, with muted reds and golds. The big bed was covered in silken blankets and dozens of plush pillows. An enormous silver bath sat in the middle of the room, already steaming with water. Dorian sighed in satisfaction. 

“How wonderful to be back in civilization again,” Dorian said and quickly slipped out of his robe. 

Cole eyed him hungrily and Dorian smirked at him. 

“Come now, Cole. I want to give you a proper bath.” 

 

They spend a little more time than was necessary in the tub, which wasn’t a problem when someone was as adept with magic as Dorian was and could keep the water at a perfect temperature for days without breaking a sweat. Dorian shooed away Cole’s curious hands and sensuously massaged his head with a sweet-smelling concoction that the inn made in-house. Cole sighed happily under his hands as he worked.

“Doesn’t that feel nice?” Dorian encouraged him to duck down under the water and he scrubbed his hair out thoroughly before repeating the process. “Much better than a cold bath while the Inquisitor crafts you more trousers.”

“I like when Cadash makes me things,” Cole said, his eyes tightly closed as water trickled down his pale face. “She thinks about the forges underground and it makes her happy.”

“I suppose it is kind of her to keep us so well-equipped,” Dorian relented. “Now, let me get to the rest of you.”

Cole shivered under his hands as he ran a cloth over his body, straying longer over his freckles and broad chest. He let his long legs fall open at Dorian’s command and he lingered for even more time on his strong thighs, his thickening cock. Cole looked back at him with trusting doe eyes.

“You are a rather fetching creature at times,” Dorian murmured, abandoning the oil-slick cloth in order to grip him firmly. “Please pay close attention, Cole. I’ll expect you to repeat this lesson for me tomorrow.”

“Yes, Dorian,” Cole said and then he moaned eagerly when Dorian began stroking him.

 

“Does your hair grow?” Dorian combed through the tangled mess that was Cole’s wet hair patiently, careful not to let it snag.

“I don’t know,” Cole said, relaxed as could be against him. His eyes were closed now after he'd stared curiously at himself in the mirror for a time as Dorian had combed his hair. “I can’t grow hair on my face like Blackwall even though I tried.”

“Hmmm, I’m going to cut it a little bit. Just to see what it does.” Dorian began evening up Cole’s numerous broken strands of hair. He rubbed the back of Cole’s neck intermittently with his thumb as he worked, humming under his breath. After a moment Cole began humming with him.

“What is it like to hear people’s thoughts and feelings?” Cole had a small scar on the bottom of his neck that invited Dorian’s mouth for a moment as he waited for the answer to his question.

“It’s…hard to explain. What’s it like not to know?”

“Wonderful, let me assure you.” Dorian eyed his work. “Well, I’m no expert at this sort of thing but that looks about right.”

“How can hair be wrong? Is that why Vivienne doesn’t have any? She doesn’t want it to be wrong?”

Dorian laughed. “Perhaps. Ah, but don’t let Madame de Fer hear you say that.”

“She doesn’t like anything that I say.” Cole made a face that was almost sullen and Dorian chuckled again.

“The South teaches their mages to fear everything, especially winsome spirits like you. You mustn’t take it to heart.”

“You’re not afraid of spirits,” Cole said, staring at Dorian in the mirror in front of them. 

“Definitely not,” Dorian said reassuringly but Cole’s face grew dark with unease.

“You should be,” he murmured, very quiet, very earnest.

Dorian felt his breath catch a bit in his throat at the look on Cole’s face. He was always so sweet and awkward, like a little lost lamb. But this look—it was dangerous and wild and it made Dorian’s blood thrum with excitement.

“Do you think you’re stronger than me?” Dorian asked and let the barest hint of magic pulse through his fingers as he clutched Cole’s shoulder.

“I could be,” Cole said, shivering under his hand. Dorian remembered what Cole had told him about what magic felt like and it made him dream of new, exciting things to try.

“We’ll see,” Dorian promised.

 

Cole twisted and shuddered as Dorian pushed the toy deeper into him. It had just the barest trace of fire magic running through its solid marble base and Dorian didn’t have to imagine how wonderful it must have felt inside him. After all there was a reason that he’d loved this place so much when he’d visited before and the intriguing implements they provided were a big part of the appeal.

“Dorian, I can’t,” Cole started, stuttered, body stretching towards and away from the slowly moving object in him. His thin blond hair had dried into even blonder fluff around his head, making little curls at the bottom where Dorian had cut. Cole looked every bit like the debauched young peasant that the innkeeper probably assumed he was, seduced out to the city by the lascivious, mustache-twirling Tevinter slaver.

“I’m barely using any magic at all, Cole. I thought that you said you were stronger than me.” Dorian teased the toy in and out at an uneven speed to keep him on edge, shaking. He hadn’t told him to keep his hands off of his leaking cock but Cole had apparently forgotten that he could touch himself. The strain must have been incredible. 

Dorian licked his lips and let the most gentle of electrical charges run through his fingers and then through the toy. Cole’s moan was choked off in his surprise, legs moving fitfully on the silken sheets. He gasped as his spine curved up and he came, hard and quick without ever touching his cock.

“Not a very impressive show of strength. You’ll never possess me this way,” Dorian said with a tsk, twisting the toy up to catch the last shuddery clench of his release. Cole moaned deep, head lolling back. He clearly couldn’t hear him. 

Dorian dropped the toy to the ground and sinuously crawled over Cole’s long body. He took his chin in his hand and kissed him deep, pressing his own needy cock against him. Cole reached up and wrapped his arms around his back, fingers digging into the skin.

“Let me make you come,” Cole begged, red-faced as Dorian pulled away. His rough hand had already slid down to grasp him. Dorian hummed and pushed his hand away.

“You can’t make me do anything, Cole. We’ve already established this.” Dorian cupped Cole’s chin again and smiled. “But I will use your mouth to make myself come.”

Cole nodded eagerly, as though he couldn’t imagine anything he wanted more than to suck Dorian off. It was nearly as exciting as his warm, hungry mouth as Dorian moved his body up and slid his cock between his pink lips. He thrust in and out at a brisk pace, leaving Cole unable to do much but let him move until finally Dorian came, thick and full down his throat.

“I do believe that I’ve made my point,” Dorian said with a satisfied sigh, moving to gracefully stretch his body out over the sheets. 

Cole immediately latched onto him, head buried against his neck, hands wrapping around his chest and back. It was like being very softly strangled by a scarecrow.

“That was nice, Dorian,” Cole said, breath tickling Dorian’s neck. 

Dorian laughed; amused at how quickly Cole fell away from any semblance of role play or sensual pillow talk. 

“It was, indeed, nice.” Dorian picked up Cole’s hand on his chest and rubbed over it, slow and content. He’d never seen Cole’s hands without the bandages around them and he was curious to see the thick, ropy scars over his knuckles. Dorian continued caressing his palm as he examined his broken nails and the similar rough scars on the pads. “Whatever are these from?”

“The walls didn’t give. He cried and then he broke his hands against the stone when the stone wouldn’t break and then he begged. That’s when I heard him.” Cole lifted his head enough to press his cheek against Dorian’s shoulder as he watched him caress his hand.

A cold block of ice formed in Dorian’s stomach as he considered his words. “But why did you keep the scars when you made your body?”

“Everyone else had forgotten,” Cole said, voice raspy and sure. “He wanted someone to remember.” 

They lay in silence for a long time, not entirely comfortable but it felt important. A strand of hair fell over Cole’s face and he smiled, faintly, as his eyes closed. “My hair smells like yours now.”

“Yes,” Dorian said reluctantly. He wondered what Iron Bull would think of his little vacation. He’d probably growl and accuse him of treating Cole like a doll. Which he supposed he was, a little.

“I don’t mind,” Cole said, eyes still closed.

“That would probably be a part of his problem.” Dorian sighed. “Cole, you know I think you’re fine the way you are, don’t you? This was all just play.”

“I know. The outside is what you can show everyone else so that they know you’re not afraid.” 

“Yes. But you’re a good man, Cole. A very good man. And good men are so rare that it doesn’t matter what their outsides are like. Anyone should be able to see their goodness and if they don’t, they’re fools.” Dorian felt a little surprised at his outburst but Cole just burrowed closer to him and relaxed more.

“I know, Dorian. You should go to sleep now.” Cole sounded as stern as a baby nug but Dorian found himself obediently closing his eyes anyway.

“Good night, Cole,” Dorian murmured, arms tightening around him. He realized that he didn’t feel lonely at all and that realization lulled him into a comfortable, warm sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I live for the idea of Dorian trolling Solas.


End file.
